You are not who I once thought you were- gorgeous face, strong in body yet simple in mind,.
Showing true colors when invisible and just waiting slowly to strike unseen and showing fangs with full and beautiful lips.
I once defended you against an accusation that obviously hurt you – no I did not believe what was said – made it a point to tell you so as well, and how throw stones my way has tarnished my memory.
I know of dark places.
I know of deception behind lovely faces.
I know if fraud and deception.
I know of the lure of evil, sly, reception.
I have seen those who glitter.
I have tasted what has since gone bad.
I have been astonished at how they become bitter,
and then stood aside after I have been had.
I have known your face in many places and the roots that hide there all go in the same direction.
You would have me believe that right is left and left is right and that I am wrong and only you are right.
Perfect husband and you the trophy wife with all the pictures to prove it are framed upon your face,
no room for mediocrity or anything that does not provide reflection,
just as long as all remind you and point to that constant chorus of perfection.
I bet you would never blister even in the sun or the raw nerve of the lights upon the shallow syllables of all your comments.
No one would ever dare to call you out or to ever put you down.
Never looking long enough to see the ones you have forgotten where you have never been- to busy contouring your eyebrows and painting up your secrets behind a pouty smile.
Just lace up the latest fashion, style your hair and run another mile.
Just go on and on and tell as often as you can how you are the one enlightened and how your man made you realize the wicked evil of your ways,
Then turn around and agree that women are mistreated and how the only church they need is the Church of Planned Parenthood and their highest sacrament given at the altar of partial birth abortion terminating life and destroying the bond of love – then turn and criticize those whose words offend you because authenticity never pays.
Cover girl face,
such a lovely place,
never deeply civil,
moral stand will shrivel.
Run the longest distance,
better than all of us,
just praise all of that persistence,
argument to aggress..
No argument from me, I remember to much and forget to little, there is no glitter in your gold, only from far away, in foolish light at all those cocktail parties and moments with friends just as shallow.
(attack the arguer and not his argument, certain you are smarter and better than all that.)
Moral grandstand,
I ma so far below you and down here I manage to forget and to cease to understand why you were ever worthy of any defense – my words must have been meant for someone else.
High maintenance,
high fashion,
much countenance,
such a morbid fashion.
Pointy fingers and making unrelated charges in the name of signalling virtue,
all this pieta ficta,
venom given to me – biting and sarcastic,
where I once saw gold in you,
I now see rust and decay.
A pretend funeral of virtue, long dead and gone.
Pretender of highest altitude then turn and pretend to fly away from those who cant be at your level,
(sacramentum Cenae)
Oh, that cover girl face,
I am sure you took him away to such a fantastical place.
A perfect state of sanctity and grace,
no guilt or awareness – not even a trace.
Perfect man, so handsome,
deep mind and then some,
he’s held your mind for ransom,
much better than being sad or lonesome.
You, so woke and unasleep – even censor jokes that offend your sensibilities.
Outraged over any perceived slight on women but still willing to demand abortion and sever the ties of mother and child- those fragile strings that hold us all together.
(sacramentum Cenae)
Pearls cast before swine,
one to many cups of wine,
just be sure to tell her she is fine,
use one or all – any fancy line.
All you are is a pretty face.
Inhabiting some glittering place.
Speak truth to power,
You, crumbling, fragile flower.
Inhabited ivory tower,
seeking growing power,
expecting others to sit and stay in place,
believing in the power of face.
(aliquid per nihil)
Iustus a pulchellus faciem……
T.S. Deary
10/1/2020
Pictures Assembled From Memory 